Highland Oath by C.A. Szarek

Author:C.A. Szarek [Szarek, C.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, time travel, scotland, love, kilts
Publisher: Paper Dragon Publishing
Published: 2017-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

A sigh fell from his lips as Angus watched her go. He wouldn’t go after her; it would do no good. Hell, she’d probably barred the door to the surgery. He shook his head and turned to ascend the stairs.

His little healer had run from him again. She’d avoided his gaze the whole time he’d been in his father’s suite—granted she’d been busy with the laird. Still, she wouldn’t look at him, even after things had calmed.

Kissing her hadn’t gotten him anywhere. Now, Lila shied away from him, even if they touched by accident. Especially then.

His hand had touched hers when passing bread at midday meal, and she’d yanked back as if he’d flayed her open.

She went out of her way not touch him, when he’d wanted nothing more.

And the dreams…

Angus dreamed of her nightly. Vivid and erotic visions, leaving him hard and aching when he woke, and his hand couldn’t do an adequate job of reliving the drive, the need of her.

Only being with Lila like he’d fantasized would quench his desire. Maybe if he could have her, the dreams would stop.

Was there a purpose to them beyond torturing him?

His mother’s words haunted him.

Fate.

Fate?

Considering the circumstances, how could that be true, when his little healer couldn’t seem to stand being near him?

She’d retreated from his father’s rooms, leaving the poor man to female MacLeod fussing, and without really even saying goodbye to anyone—except Malcolm.

Angus frowned.

They’d never discussed the kiss. Any time he’d thought he might be able to bring it up, she’d move away as if he was a leper. He couldn’t have such a conversation publicly, so he’d given up, ignoring the hurt throbbing in the back of his mind.

Each time Lila avoided him made her denial of wanting him scorch a little more, from the inside out. No amount of commanding himself to let it go was helping. No amount of calling himself a fool had an effect, either.

His memories of her taste and his dreams seconded that.

Angus sighed again and crossed the great hall. He should return to the fighting yard. His cousin Lachlan had challenged him to a sparring duel, and he needed to teach the lad a lesson.

Lan, as most called him, was newly twenty, and sometimes carried an ego too big for his breeches. He was decent with a sword, aye, but Angus was better.

“Lad, may I have a word?” Uncle Duncan called. He stood near the largest hearth, with obvious worry wrinkled on his forehead.

He went to his father’s twin without delay. “Somethin’ wrong, Uncle?”

“Truth be tol’, I worry o’er yer da.”

“Stubborn git,” they said at the same time, then exchanged wry smiles.

“Lila will have Da on tha mend in no time.”

Duncan tilted is head, as if he needed to think on it, then offered a curt nod. “I can only hope so. There’s somethin’ I need ye ta do fer me.”

“Anathin’.”

“I’m due ta retrieve an order tha lasses made months ago, fabrics tha’ come from France. ‘Tis a big supply, ta get us new clothin’ fer the year or more; gowns fer the lasses, a’ course.

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